


Leave No One Behind.

by steeleye



Series: Military Faith. [8]
Category: Blackhawk Down, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Call of Cthulhu (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, action adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 23:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7952917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A a prequel to the Military Faith series; set in 2003 when Faith was just a Spec4. Finding herself sent to Yemalia to be a driver for a General, Faith instead finds herself fighting for her life against militia bands and evil cultists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Leave No One Behind.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Blackhawk Down or Call of Cthulhu, I write these stories for fun not profit.

 **Crossover:** The movie, ‘Blackhawk Down’, directed by, Ridley Scott written by Ken Nolan from the book by Mark Bowden. The RPG, ‘Call of Cthulhu’ is published by Chaosium Inc and is based on the works of H. P Lovecraft.

 **Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar:** Written in glorious UK-English (the original and best) which is different to US-English.

 **Timeline:** A Military Faith story set in October 2003.

 **Words:** Seven chapters of 2000+ words.

 **Warnings:** Violence and strong language.

 **Summary:** A a prequel to the Military Faith series; set in 2003 when Faith was just a Spec4. Finding herself sent to Yemalia to be a driver for a General, Faith instead finds herself fighting for her life against militia bands and evil cultists.

0=0=0=0

_First to fight for the right,  
And to build the Nation’s might,  
And The Army Goes Rolling Along  
Proud of all we have done,  
Fighting till the battle’s won,  
And the Army Goes Rolling Along._

_Then it's Hi! Hi! Hey!  
The Army's on its way.  
Count off the cadence loud and strong  
For where e’er we go,  
You will always know  
That The Army Goes Rolling Along._

0=0=0=0

**Charlie Seven-Seven, somewhere over the Indian Ocean, October 2003.**

The C-130, Hercules dropped like a stone as it approached the Yemali coast and Faith found herself fighting to keep her breakfast in her stomach where it belonged. The flight from Diego Garcia had been a long and tedious one, the Hercules didn’t even have any windows to look out of and the noise from the aircraft’s engines prevented any sort of meaningful conversation with the load master. Having read the orientation material they’d given her (which had taken all of five minutes) Faith’d caught a few zees, but even after that it’d left her with far too much time on her hands to think. Stuck in a metal tube, with no one to talk to and nothing to do, she found herself once again thinking about the mystery that was her life.

Way back in 2000, she’d woken up in hospital in a place called Sunnydale, California, she’d been in a coma for eight months; or so everyone told her. At this point, Faith was taking everything on trust because apart from knowing what her name was and some confusing memories about seeing the man she thought was her father killed, she hadn’t a clue as to who or what she was. The doctors told her she’d been found in the back of a truck after she’d been stabbed in the stomach. This sort of made sense, or at least to Faith it did, because after her father had been killed the murderess (a short blonde woman in grey whose face Faith could never quite see in her nightmares) came after her.

There was other stuff Faith knew, she could remember how to read and write, she could remember songs she’d obviously liked and films she’d seen. But useful stuff like who the freaking hell she was escaped her completely. After she’d been moved out of the hospital basement and into a better room the doctors had started to do tests on her. They’d wanted to know why she’d woken up after so long in a coma. Normally the longer someone stayed in a coma the less likely they were to wake up and the hospital authorities had given up on her long ago. Now they wanted to know why she was in such good condition physically; as one of the interns had told her, no one should look as good as she did after spending eight months asleep.

The strangeness had increased one night about two weeks after she’d woken up. Faith’d been lying in bed watching TV one night when two Sunnydale PD detectives walked into her room. Thinking they’d come to talk to her some more about her wounds (which had healed leaving only very faint scares) she was surprised when they gave her a small back pack full of clothes and an envelope containing her personal documentation and about six-thousand dollars. They also advised her to leave town…tonight!

Not being stupid, but feeling totally confused and a little scared; Faith dressed and stuffed the documents she’d been given into the pack her new clothes had come in. She’d gladly accepted a lift by the two detectives to Sunnydale bus station. One of the detectives bought her a ticket to LA and then escorted her onto the bus. Watching her climb aboard the detectives had wished her good luck and again cautioned her never to come back to Sunnydale.

After spending a couple of months in LA wandering from cheap motel to cheap motel, but always with a feeling that someone was following her, Faith realised that this couldn’t go on. She was running short of money and no one seemed interested in employing her as anything other than a stripper. After once again failing to get a waitress job, Faith found herself outside a US Army recruitment office. Shrugging and asking herself, ‘what the hell’, she’d walked inside and enlisted, the Army appeared glad to see her when no one else wanted her. The rest, as they say, was history.

This was more than three years ago now; Faith had spent most of her service to date in the US or in Germany. Her present mission was the first one that had sent her outside either the continental United States or Europe. Europe had been cool, just different enough from the States to be interesting, but not so different as to make her feel lost. Driving an ambulance for one of the military hospitals that cared for the wounded coming from Iraq and Afghanistan, Faith had felt she was doing something worthwhile. She had friends, money in her pocket a roof over her head and a job she liked, as far as she was concerned she was in ‘hog-heaven’.

But like all good things it came to an end. A few days previously she’d been called into her C/O’s office where he'd told her she’d been picked to be a driver for a General. Faith swelled with pride, she knew she was a good driver, obviously she’d impressed someone and she’d been picked to drive some big brass around; she wondered where she’d go, maybe she’d be sent to the NATO headquarters in Brussels. Her dreams of seeing Brussels and going around in her class ‘B’s’ all the time were shattered by her C/O’s next words; she was going to drive Major General Bill Garrison’s Hummer in Yemalia.

The name of the place started to ring warning bells in Faith’s head almost immediately. Searching her memory she remembered ferrying a couple of badly shot up guys from the airport to the hospital, the medic looking after them had told her they’d been injured in Yemalia.

After being told to pack her combat gear and put everything else in storage, Faith was dismissed and given twenty-four hours to get ready for her new deployment. This meant getting a whole battery of injections against everything from the flu to the Black Death before reporting to the military airfield where she’d be flown to Diego Garcia and from there on to Yemalia itself.

0=0=0=0

The Hercules started to shudder as it flew at treetop height (had there been any trees) across the Yemalian coast and towards Mogador International Airport. According to her briefing notes Yemalia had been in the grips of what had basically been a family feud between the autocratic ruler, Prince Feisal, the Sultan of Yemalia and his Uncle, Mulai Ahmed el Raisuli. The Sultan was pro-western while his uncle wanted to set up a more traditionalist Islamic state. The US was there to support the Sultan and provide back-up to the UN aid mission in the country. At least this was what Faith had worked out from the booklet she’d been given.

As a result of this feud, Yemalia had been plunged into a catastrophic civil war that had lasted nearly ten years. The country’s economy had collapsed some years ago and now the population (always the losers in this sort of conflict) was suffering from the effects of famine brought on by war and drought. Faith was only supposed to be in country for about a month; the General’s regular driver was on compassionate leave back in the States, but would be returning as soon as his present family emergency was dealt with. Faith thought she could survive a month in this fly-blown hell-hole.

Her stomach lurched as the Hercules increased altitude to fly over a goat. The reason they were flying so low was that rebel soldiers often fired on US and UN aircraft as they came into land at the airport built before the war with international aid. Jumping slightly as she felt a hand on her shoulder, Faith turned to see the load master looking down at her, he bent forward and checked that Faith’s seatbelt was secure before taking his own seat closer to the cargo doors at the rear of the aircraft. Hearing the undercarriage deploy, Faith braced herself for landing.

The landing, when it came, was something of an anti-climax. There was a slight bump and the sound of rubber squealing on tarmac and the Hercules was down on the ground. Rapidly the aircraft decelerated before taxiing to one side of the main runway. Even before the aircraft had stopped the load master was up out of his seat and opening the cargo doors, he obviously didn’t want to be on the ground any longer than he had to be.

Unclipping her own seat belt, Faith stood up and grabbed her gear and the rifle she’d been issued with in Diego Garcia. Her gear included a helmet and body armour, an equipment harness and thirty rounds for her rifle, it was about at this time that it finally hit her; she was walking into a war zone. Lifting her gear in one hand and her rifle in the other she shuffled along the aircraft, past the pallets of rations and ammunition towards the cargo doors. Here Faith caught her first glimpse of Yemalia, she wasn’t impressed. Heat shimmered off the tarmac and beyond the runway she could see nothing but sandy soil scattered with a few stunted thorn bushes, there weren’t even any camels or goats to break the monotony.

“Hey! Sergeant!” Faith called as she got closer to the load master, “Any idea where I’m supposed to go?”

“You with the Rangers?” the load master asked as he turned to look down at her.

“Yep,” Faith nodded and explained, “‘sposed to be some General’s driver for a month.”

“Hey!” the load master laughed, “They’re gonna love you…”

“What?” Faith frowned wondering what the airforce non-com was taking about.

“Listen up, soldier,” the load master continued not unkindly, “try over at the terminal that’s where the Rangers are camped out…”

“Thanks,” Faith nodded, “I’ll try that.”

“…and soldier,” the load master continued, “I’d put that body armour on, the natives ‘round here ain’t friendly.”

“Yeah, sure,” Faith looked at the air force guy uncertain whether he was screwing with her or not; some sixth sense told her he was being serious so she dropped her gear and struggled into her body armour, “thanks.”

Stepping down from the cargo ramp, Faith hitched her backpack up onto her shoulder and clutched her rifle a little more tightly than she might have done anywhere else. It wasn’t that she was frightened; she was never frightened, once or twice she admitted to being nervous but never frightened…it was just the way she was. Today, however, she was more than normally nervous, telling herself that it was all perfectly normal and nothing to worry about she walked away from the Hercules.

Heading towards a big concrete building that looked like a set from the latest Hollywood, Sci-fi movie, Faith got to see more of Yemalia, she still wasn’t impressed. Over on the opposite side of the runway stood the wrecks of several burnt out airliners each one with the faded logo of Yemali Airways on their tails. Nearby were the wrecks of a couple of US helicopters, that didn’t improve Faith’s feelings about the place either. Walking nearer to the terminal building Faith saw that all the great plate glass windows had been shot out long ago. Some had been replaced with plastic sheeting but most of the windows were open to the sky like big sightless eyes.

The closer she got the more detail she saw, the bullet scared walls the sandbagged machine gun emplacements, the razor wire entanglements and the US soldiers standing guard around the place. All this she was able to pick out from nearly half a mile away due to her super, more than perfect eyesight, one of the many things that made her special and one of the many things she’d learnt to hide over the last three or so years.

It was a long hot walk to the terminal building but eventually she came to a guard post at a gap in the razor wire fence.

“Third Rangers?” Faith asked the PFC on duty at the gate.

“That’s us,” the Ranger smiled as he checked Faith out, “what can we do for you, little lady?”

“Never call me ‘little lady’ again unless ya wanna eat that rifle,” Faith replied with a menacing edge to her voice, the guard took an involuntary half step away from her, “You can tell me where the Battalion Cee-pee is though.”

“Let’s see some ID,” the Ranger said as he recovered himself.

“Hey,” Faith searched in the pocket of her DCU’s for her ID before showing it to the guard, “do I look like a terrorist or somethin’?”

“Okay,” the guard studied her ID for maybe thirty seconds longer than was really necessary before admitting Faith was who she claimed to be, “head down to the offices behind the terminal,” he pointed vaguely to some temporary offices behind the main terminal building, “someone there will deal with you.”

Walking through the gate and away from the guard, Faith sighed and shook her head. It wasn’t that she minded guys checking her out, she was hot and she knew it. But, she drew the line at PFC’s calling her ‘little lady’, okay she was only five foot five, but she could kick that asshole’s butt from one end of the runway to the other. Her unusual strength was another thing she kept secret from the army. As far as they were concerned she was just a more than averagely strong young woman who took her physical fitness seriously.

Walking over to the offices she paused to look at the rough hand printed signs that pointed the way to the different cabins, she saw the one she wanted and turned to her right to go in search of the battalion office. As she walked between the tightly packed cabins, at least here it was slightly cooler than outside because there were camouflaged nets keeping the sun off, she noticed that every Ranger who passed her seemed to stop and stare after her.

Okay, Faith told herself, so I’m hot but weren’t there other women on base? Surely she couldn’t be the only GI-Jane around. Sighing resignedly, Faith eventually found the office she was looking for, opening the door she walked in and dumped her gear on the floor.

“Be with you in one minute,” called a corporal who was working at a battered old computer terminal that was sitting on an equally battered old desk.

Waiting patiently, Faith took the time to look around. The office was actually two cabins joined together; it was full of office furniture that had seen better days. Every flat surface appeared to be covered with piles of paper and old coffee cups.

“Help yourself to coffee,” the corporal, who still hadn’t actually looked up at her gestured to where a coffee pot stood on a hot plate. 

Not needing to be told twice, Faith helped herself to coffee and sipped the hot brew carefully, it tasted like paint stripper.

“Jeez!” Faith said quietly as she put the coffee cup down, no wonder the place was littered with half full coffee cups.

“ID,” the corporal held out his hand to Faith, he still hadn’t looked at her; there was obviously something more important than the General’s new driver on his computer screen.

Stepping forward, Faith handed over her ID, the corporal looked at it and laughed, “Okay very funny,” he studied the plastic card and its photograph of Faith’s face, “now lets have the real one.”

“Hey man,” Faith replied, “what ya mean the ‘real one’?”

“What!?” For the first time the Corporal looked up at Faith, his eyes growing wide in surprise as he did so, Faith smiled at him uncertainly, “B-but y-you’re a woman!!”

“Yeah,” Faith replied deadpan, “been that way all my life!”

“B-but you can’t be!” the corporal was standing up by now and didn’t seem to know whether he should run or stay.

“Who says I can’t?” Faith wanted to know.

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

**3rd Ranger Battalion, Mogador International, Yemalia.**

“What the hell am I going to do with you…” Battalion Sergeant Major Schroeder looked at Faith’s documentation again to refresh his memory, “…Lehane?”

“I…” Faith started to reply but the senior non-com cut her off before she’d had a chance to say anything more.

“Hell!” Sergeant Major Schroeder threw Faith’s documents across his desk, they skimmed across the neatly ordered desk top and landed on the floor, “What the hell am I supposed to do with you? This is a combat base,” Schroeder explained as he started to pace up and down behind his desk, “I’ve got no facilities for women! This is no place for female personnel,” Schroeder continued as he glared at Faith, “your mere presence will disrupt the entire base…you know some of these men haven’t seen an American woman in nearly a year!?”

Standing mutely at attention, Faith wondered what century the sergeant major was living in. Although her instincts were telling her to either kill the chauvinist bastard or run like hell, she stoically stood her ground and waited for the sergeant major to stop yelling and let her speak. The idea of a sergeant major _not_ yelling almost made her smile, but she managed to stop herself before her lips even started to move, instead she kept starring at a spot just above the sergeant major’s head; after all wasn’t that what sergeant major’s did, yell? However, Faith did feel that none of this was actually her fault, if Schroeder wanted to yell at someone surely he should be yelling at whoever had screwed up and sent her here in the first place. Okay, she could take a bawling out with the best of them if she’d screwed up, but she didn’t like being yelled at when it wasn’t her fault.

“Tears won’t help either, Lehane,” Schroeder sneered not realising how close he’d just come to death or serious injury by suggesting that Faith would do anything so ‘girlie’ as cry.

Faith held onto her temper, she had no intention of bursting into tears, she never cried…ever! Realising that Schroeder had fallen silent, Faith panicked thinking the sergeant major had asked her something and she’d not heard because she’d been wrapped up in her own thoughts.

“Oh,” Schroeder sighed tiredly and sat down; he looked up at Faith, “at ease, Specialist this isn’t your fault I shouldn’t be raggin’ on you.”

Standing at ‘parade rest’, Faith was a little confused by Schroeder’s sudden change in demeanour, he sounded almost human.

“But that still doesn’t alter the fact that we’ve got no facilities for women,” Schroeder dry scrubbed his face, “no showers, no latrines and certainly no beauty parlours or shopping malls.”

Once again Faith almost said something, she wanted to point out that she didn’t need any ‘beauty parlours’ (she was way too hot to need them) and as for shopping malls, she could take them or leave them. However, she could remember a few girls from BCT who’d not been able to go a week without a visit to the local mall; so, she reluctantly let that remark go. But she still felt slightly insulted at the suggestion that she’d need to go to a beauty parlour. The sergeant major was standing up again and retrieved Faith’s documentation from the floor while these thoughts had been going through her mind. Once again he stood behind his desk and studied Faith’s army record. He looked at her and seemed pleasantly surprised about something.

“Says here you achieved ‘marksman’ rating back in basic,” Schroeder observed, “at least you know how to fire your weapon…” the sergeant major lapsed into silence again, “…and you drove ambulances for the Army Hospital in Wurzburg?”

“Yes Sergeant Major,” Faith spoke for the first time in what felt like an eternity, “and I was freakin’ good at it!”

Looking up at Faith in surprise, Schroeder couldn’t help but smile; he put down Faith’s papers and rested his fists on the top of his desk as he regarded her with a basilisk-like stare. After a moment or two he relaxed again and sat down.

“Well, Specialist Lehane,” Schroeder rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers, “I don’t care how good a driver you or anyone else may think you are, you are _not_ gonna be driving The General around Mogador…” Schroeder took a deep breath, “…that’s way too dangerous for a woman and the General…”

Once again Faith had to stop herself from jumping in and tearing this asshole a new one, army discipline won out and she kept her thoughts and fists to herself. However she did promise herself a trip to speak to her own C/O once she got back to Germany.

“Whatever,” Schroeder sighed as he started to search his desk top for something, “I’ve gotta think of something to do with you while you’re here and before I send you back…” Schroeder appeared to find what he was looking for; he sat and studied the piece of paper in his hand for a long minute, finally he spoke, “So, you drove ambulances,” he glanced up at Faith and came to a decision, “I’m going to put you in with the medical section under Captain Ronson the battalion medical officer, you can be his problem while you’re here.”

“CORPORAL GRIMES!” Schroeder yelled making Faith wince.

“Sergeant Major!” Corporal Grimes, who’d been the first member of 3rd Rangers to be surprised by Faith’s arrival, appeared in the doorway to the sergeant major’s office.

“Take Specialist Lehane to Captain Ronson,” Schroeder instructed the man, “while I phone ahead to warn him…” Schroeder looked up at Faith once more, “…dismissed Specialist.”

0=0=0=0

**The Temple of the Great One, Mogador, Yemalia.**

Hurrying through the fetid back alleys of Mogador, a lone, robed figure paused in her scurrying outside a large, heavy, wooden door. Furtively she looked up and down the empty, rubbish strewn alleyway to make sure she’d not been followed. It was only by being careful that the ‘Followers of the Great One’ had been able to survive for the last eight hundred years since the Moslem non-believers had come to Mogador. Satisfied that she’d not been followed she knocked on the door using today’s secret signal. Her door knocking echoed hollowly inside the building as she stood outside and waited nervously for someone to answer. Eventually a small panel in the door opened and a gruff voice drifted down to him.

“Who’s there?” demanded the voice

Ayesha, as the robed figure outside the door was more commonly known, replied in a loud whisper.

“It is I, Ayesha,” the password was deceptively simple, had she not said those words exactly she would have been instantly gunned down by the temple guards; a non-believer would never believe that the password was something as simple as your name.

For a moment there was silence as the guard inside confirmed that Ayesha was who she claimed to be.

“Enter Sister,” the guard announced after what felt like an un-necessarily long wait.

Listening as bolts where drawn and locks unlocked, Ayesha continued to watch the alley, long experience had taught her that you could never be too careful. Eventually the door was opened just wide enough for her to slip inside; as soon as she entered the cool darkness of the temple the door was slammed shut and secured again. Sighing with relief, Ayesha thanked the Great One for her safe arrival; with ‘The Day’ so close it would be fatal to the Sisterhood’s plans if the non-believers discovered them.

“Is Sister Waheeda here?” Ayesha asked the heavily armed guard; Ayesha had received an urgent message from Sister Waheeda to meet her at the temple today.

“Yes Sister,” the guard replied, his voice rumbling around the entrance chamber, “she arrived only half an hour ago, and went directly to the sacrificial chamber.”

“Good,” Ayesha smiled, “and thank-you,” she added; it always paid to be polite to large men clutching AK47’s even if they were supposed to be on your side.

Hurriedly Ayesha walked through the temple passing murals depicting the fate of the non-believers when the Great One rose from the ocean. Only ‘The Chosen’ and those who were willing to become their slaves would survive the vengeance of the Great One when he returned to reclaim his rightful place in this world.

Eventually she came to the Sacrificial Chamber, electric light seeped from under the door illuminating the stone floor. Not bothering to knock, Ayesha opened the door and walked into the chamber. Although it was still called ‘The Sacrificial Chamber’, nothing had been sacrificed here for more than a hundred years, nowadays it was used by Ayesha and her sister High Priestess, Waheeda, as an office. Sitting on a chair behind her desk, Waheeda was reading something on her computer screen, she looked up at Ayesha as she burst into the office.

“Glory to our dreaming King!” Waheeda greeted her Sister, “I was just getting the good news out to the faithful.” 

“Deep beneath the ocean waves, dreaming in his watery grave,” Ayesha gave the traditional response before asking, “Good news? What good news?”

“Soon the stars will all be right,” Waheeda smiled a little insanely, “to usher in eternal night!”

“The Stars are Right?” Ayesha queried, “Are you sure? This isn’t a mistake like the millennium?” The Millennium Fiasco had taken a lot of explaining, the casualties caused by the rather ‘robust’ theological discussions afterwards had almost been too much for the Sisterhood to bear.

”No!” Waheeda laughed as cold shivers passed up and down Ayesha’s spine, “When The Great One comes to reign, things here 'bouts won't be the same!” Climbing to her feet with a look of rapture on her face, Waheeda lifted her hands to the sky, “Glory to our dreaming King!”

“Yes, yes,” Ayesha made calming gestures with her hands, she felt someone needed to inject a little sanity into the situation because once the ‘Great One’ arrived sanity would go straight out the window.

The Great One, whose very name struck fear, even amongst His most loyal followers, only spoke to those whose souls could hear His siren call. Ayesha and Waheeda were the last of the ‘Blessed Ones’ who could hear the Great One’s orders which came from his grave in the watery deeps where He’d been imprisoned by the Lesser Gods. Of course embarrassing questions like; if the Great One was so great, how come he’d been imprisoned by the Lesser Gods, where met by a reasoned argument or failing that a dagger in the belly; these days Ayesha preferred a bullet to the back of the head, but Waheeda was a traditionalist and still preferred daggers.

“So the stars are right?” Ayesha asked wanting positive confirmation, “When precisely?”

“Tomorrow!” Waheeda clapped her hands with glee.

“TOMORROW!?” Ayesha couldn’t help shouting, she’d waited for this day for so long she could hardly believe it had arrived in her life time.

It was only then that the seeds of doubt started to sprout in Ayesha’s mind. Would the Great One’s arrival be that great? Okay, they would rule the world (or at least those parts that the Great One hadn’t destroyed) in his name, but…but they would be insane and what basis was that for a New World Order? Things were pretty good as they were, perhaps it’d be better if they stayed that way. Reaching under her robes, Ayesha felt the butt of the Tokarev TT-30 automatic pistol she kept hidden there (the same weapon she used for dealing with those intractable theological arguments) it would be so easy to just blow her Sister’s brains out all over the wall. She need only tell anyone who’d been contacted by Waheeda that she’d made a mistake and had ‘retired’ from Temple life as a result. If they didn’t do the ceremony tomorrow when the stars were in position, the Great One would not rise and everything would go on as before. 

“Death and pain to most he brings,” Waheeda continued the insane glint in her eyes growing stronger by the second, “risen with darkness in His wings.”

“Well of course,” Ayesha tried to calm his sister as the pistol’s butt pressed against her belly, “but you’ve not actually proved to me that the stars are in fact right…you know we must both agree…”

“Of course! Of course,” Waheeda giggled insanely, “Here, here,” she ripped open a drawer and pulled papers out and let them spill across the desk. “Waked at last no more to lie,” Waheeda continued, “proof that death itself may die!”

Hesitantly, Ayesha picked up some of the papers and started to read, she gulped quietly as she realised that Waheeda looked as if she’d got it right; the stars would be in the right position from about midday tomorrow!

“Oh shit!” Ayesha said to herself as she once again considered shooting Waheeda in the head.

What was she to do? Shoot her friend and sister or…or…fulfil her life long mission and the mission of all the Sisters who’d gone before her. Perhaps the Great One’s rule wouldn’t be so bad, after all man didn’t seem to be doing such a great job of ruling the world. Maybe it was time for humanity to step aside and let someone else take over for awhile?

Then there was always the possibility that nothing would happen, after all ‘second comings’ were notoriously hard to predict. There was no reason that The Great One would be any more punctual than any of the other gods or messiahs who’d promised to return and so far had been conspicuous by their absence. No, Ayesha put down the sheets of paper covered with Waheeda’s insane but accurate calculations, the chances were that nothing ‘terrible’ would happen tomorrow. The Great One would not rise from the sea and destroy the human race and Ayesha would quietly take her friend behind the temple privy and blow her brains out.

“Born to crush the human race,” Waheeda rejoiced, “wipe them out and leave no trace…”

“Glory to our dreaming King!” Ayesha joined her voice with that of her Sister as they praised the Great One’s coming.

0=0=0=0

**Author’s note** ; most of this last chapter was based quite heavily on the words from my favourite hymn in the Cthulhu hymnal, “Hark the Nameless Cultists Sing”. 


	3. Chapter 3

3.

**3rd Ranger Battalion, General Garrison’s Office.**

Looking up at the sound of the knock on his door, General Bill Garrison gave a grateful sigh; he was thankful at any interruption to the mass of paperwork that even generals had to do in this modern army. At the moment he was writing a report about the present situation in Yemalia and what he thought might be he proper response to it. He knew that if he was given more troops, more food aid for the civilian population and a free hand he could crush the rebels in about a year. However that was never going to happen, they’d been sent in as ‘peacekeepers’ but as there was no peace to keep their hands were tied as no one was willing to allow him to be more ‘forceful’ in his dealings with the rebels.

“Come!” he called as he closed the screen of the laptop he’d been working on and pushed it to one side; the door opened to reveal his clerk, Corporal White.

“Colonel McKnight and Captain Steele to see you, General,” Corporal White announced quietly.

“Send them in Corporal,” General Garrison sat back in his chair and watched as the two Ranger officers walked into his office and saluted.

“Hi Danny,” after returning the officer’s salutes, the General shook Colonel McKnight’s hand enthusiastically, “good to see you, gives me an excuse to stop being a clerk and be a soldier again!”

“Glad I could help General,” McKnight laughed, “you know Mike Steele? He commands my ‘B’ Company…”

“Good to meet you, Mike,” General Garrison shook Captain Steele’s hand warmly before inviting the men to take a seat. “So, what can I do for the commander of 3rd Rangers today?” Garrison asked expectantly.

“It’s what I might be able to do for you General,” McKnight replied mysteriously before starting to explain, “Yesterday a piece of intelligence came into my hands indicating that Mulai Ahmed el Raisuli and his chief ally Nadim Sawalha will be in Mogador tomorrow.”

“How good is this intelligence?” General Garrison asked his interest piqued.

“Very good,” Colonel McKnight replied before explaining further, “our information suggests that both el Raisuli and Sawalha will be meeting Colonel Firimbi and General Yousuf Dahir Mo'alim at the Hyperion Hotel at about midday tomorrow.”

“My god!” Garrison gasped, “If we could capture those four our mission here would be one hundred percent easier,” the General leaned across his desk towards Colonel McKnight.

“We also believe that several other important members of the rebel high command will be at the hotel for this meeting,” McKnight smiled, he could see he had the General hooked. “Even if this turns out to be false the prospect of capturing these four major players is worth the risk in my opinion.”

Leaning back in his chair again, General Garrison pondered this information. The capture of most of the rebel high command would be a great blow for peace in Yemalia and well worth the risk. It was obvious to him the Colonel McKnight had something planned or he wouldn’t have come directly to him with this, he obviously needed the go-ahead from him to start the ball rolling. 

The idea that four rebel leaders would meet in the capital like this wasn’t as strange as it might at first appear. Who controlled Mogador was open to debate. Of course the Sultan claimed to control his own capital, but in reality the Sultan’s control didn’t extend much further than his palace gates. Other areas were controlled by various militias owing allegiance to several different rebel parties, they fought amongst themselves as much as they fought against the Sultan’s forces. However, one thing was sure; if the Americans started to mount an operation in Mogador they’d all soon forget their differences and fight the Americans instead.

Mulai Ahmed’s faction was by far the strongest in Yemalia, he had the most and best equipped forces, the actual training of these forces was poor by western standards. But, they were quite capable of defeating the Sultan’s men; however against professional western troops in open battle they’d be slaughtered. Of course while the total number of western trained and equipped troops in Yemalia could be counted in the few hundreds, Mulai Ahmed could call on thousands of armed militia and civilians to back him up. Any operation would rely on the professionalism of the troops carrying it out plus their better technology and weapons.

“You have a plan?” Garrison asked.

“Captain Steele has come up with something I think will work,” Colonel McKnight gestured to the younger officer at his side, “I’ll leave him to explain the basics.”

“General,” Captain Steele picked up the briefcase that had been resting on the floor by his feet, he opened it up and took out a sheaf of papers and laid it on the desk in front of the general. “that is a copy of my plan in detail,” he smiled and glanced at his Colonel, “you’ll have to excuse the spelling and bad grammar as I wrote it in a hurry.”

“Don’t worry son,” Garrison picked up the plan and started to flick through its pages, “I’m sure it’s just fine…now why don’t you explain it to me?”

“To put it simply General,” Steele began, “I intend to helo assault the hotel with the Delta force personnel attached to the battalion while my Rangers form a security cordon around the building.” Steele paused for a moment to study the General’s expression, seeing only neutral interest, Steele continued explaining his plan. “Once the rebel leadership has been captured they’ll be transported back to base in a ground column that will have started out for the hotel at the same time as the helicopter assault force.”

“Why not take out the prisoners by helo?” the General asked.

“To put it simply, General,” Steele shrugged, “we don’t have enough choppers to risk them in what will have become a dangerous situation, I also want them to provide anti-sniper watch and casevac for the ground column as they withdraw.”

“Hmmm,” General Garrison rubbed his chin as he considered the Captain’s plan; apart from the extraction of the prisoners the plan seemed sound, “Why not take Mulai Ahmed and the most important prisoners out by air and then withdraw everyone else over land?”

“We could do that I suppose, General,” Steele agreed but didn’t sound too happy; this was his plan and he wanted to do it his way.

“Okay,” General Garrison tossed the plan down on to his desk, “you have the green light, but I want you to brief me again tomorrow at zero-nine-thirty when I’ll give you the final yes or no, understand?”

“Yes, General!” Steele nodded his understanding, “I’ll start preparations right away.”

After shaking hands with the two Ranger officers, Garrison had White show them out of his office. Sitting down at his desk again he picked up the Captain’s plan and started to study it more closely. He still felt uncomfortable about the extraction plan, why not take out the important prisoners by air? As he looked at the list of requirements for ground transport a memory popped into the General’s mind, he called White back into his office.

“Corporal White,” Garrison looked up from the papers in his hand, “whatever happened about my replacement driver?”

“Erm, yes General…” White hesitated for a moment.

“Well, Corporal?” Garrison looked up at the man.

“Well, General,” White didn’t sound at all happy, “they did in fact send you a replacement…”

“But?” Garrison encouraged his clerk to explain.

“The soldier they sent,” White wasn’t sure how his General would react, but he bit the bullet and explained the entire sorry tail, “a Spec4 Lehane, who’s supposed to be an excellent driver…well…General, she’s a woman…”

“A woman?” General Garrison repeated.

“And a real pretty one…” White noticed the look on his General’s face, “…so I’m told…not that it makes any difference,” White gulped before adding, “General.”

“A woman!?” Garrison dropped Captain Steele’s plan back onto his desk, “What the hell did they think they were doing sending a woman here!?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say, General,” White replied.

“Did none of those Remf’s think what would happen to her if she got captured?” Garrison wanted to know.

The fate of any man falling into rebel hands was uncertain to say the least. The fate of any woman in rebel hands would almost certainly include gang rape whatever the rebel high command might want or say. A female soldier would be like a red flag to a bull where the militias were concerned; they’d automatically class her as a whore and therefore fair game.

“Find out who was responsible for this screw up and get them on the line now!” Garrison demanded.

“Yes General!” White braced to attention.

“And where’s this Specialist Lehane now?” Garrison wanted to know.

“She’s been temporarily attached to the 3rd Battalion’s Forward Surgical Team, General,” Corporal White explained, “Sergeant Major Schroeder is trying to arrange transport back to Diego Garcia for her.”

“Good,” General Garrison nodded, “she should be safe enough there…”

0=0=0=0

**3rd Ranger Battalion, Forward Surgical Team.**

Standing just to one side of the rest of the personnel in the aid station, Faith watched and waited to find out what the hell was going on. When she’d arrived she’d been met by a Sergeant Vazquez who was memorable because he was the first person to show no surprise at Faith being a woman (personally Faith thought her first name was a bit of a hint). He’d shown her around the collection of tents that housed the battalion’s medical unit and had found her somewhere to sleep (in a store tent) and organised washing and toilet facilities for her.

“You’ll have to make do with washing in a bowl for now,” Sergeant Vazquez had explained, “we can’t close off the showers just for one person, but,” Vazquez gave her a toothy smile, “hopefully you’ll be out of here in a day or two.”

Reassuring Vazquez that she could manage, Faith had started to settle in for what she hoped would be a very short stay. It was mid afternoon when the unit commander, Captain Ronson, called everyone together in the tent that served as the unit’s main hospital ward. It was empty of any wounded at the moment so everyone took seats on the cots that lined the walls.

“Listen up,” Captain Ronson, a man in his late twenties or early thirties, called out, “I’ve just received word that Bravo Company will be launching a major operation into Mogador tomorrow morning.” 

Ronson didn’t sound too excited and Faith got the impression that this sort of thing happened all the time.

“Although they’re not expecting many casualties,” Ronson cast his eye over the members of his unit, his glance seemed to speak volumes, “we also know how expectations are rarely met!”

After finishing his little pep talk he started to detail people off to their assigned tasks, eventually there was only Faith left with nothing to do.

“Specialist Lehane,” Ronson called Faith over, “a word…”

“Sir?” Faith walked over to the officer and braced up in front of him.

“Relax, Specialist,” Ronson ordered her, Faith relaxed, “I hear you’re an accomplished driver?”

“The best, Sir,” Faith replied without any hesitation.

“Good,” Ronson smiled down at her, “Y’know Specialist I’m all for women in the armed forces, so how do you feel about driving one of our vehicles tomorrow?”

“That depends on where ya want it driven, Sir,” Faith replied.

“How about into the heart of Mogador?” Ronson asked, he wasn’t smiling anymore but looked deadly serious.

“Not a problem, Sir,” Faith replied with more bravado than she actually felt.

“Good!” the smile was back on Ronson’s face; he’d long thought the army’s attitude to women in combat was outdated, “Sergeant Vazquez!” he called and the man in question trotted over to join them.

“Sir?” Vazquez inquired.

“Show Specialist Lehane where we keep our vehicles and assign her as ‘Barney’s’ driver, she’ll be coming out with us tomorrow…”

“But Sir…” Vazquez looked from Ronson to Faith and back again.

“Were you going to point out that Specialist Lehane is in fact a woman?” Ronson asked.

“Well, yes Sir,” Vazquez admitted.

“As far as I know there are no regulations against female personnel driving ambulances in a combat zone,” Ronson pointed out, “and you’ve got to admit, Sergeant that we’re short of experienced drivers.”

“But, Sir…” Vazquez was about to add something but Ronson interrupted him.

“You wouldn’t be implying that Specialist Lehane isn’t up to the job, would you, Sergeant?” Ronson had difficulty holding back the tone of amusement in his voice at his non-com’s discomfort.

“No, Sir,” Sergeant Vazquez sighed, he knew when he was defeated; turning to Faith he shrugged, “Come on Lehane I’ll show you our vehicles and you can help get them prepped.”

“On it,” Faith nodded before following the Sergeant towards the motor pool.

0=0=0=0

**Mogador City.**

“The Americans?” Mulai Ahmed asked.

“My spies tell me they have taken the bait,” Nadim Sawalha replied, “and are preparing to launch their operation tomorrow, my friend.”

“Good, good,” Mulai Ahmed nodded his head slowly, “if we can draw a sufficient number of Americans into the city and defeat them…”

“Then the Sultan will know that he can not hide behind the infidels forever,” Nadim Sawalha finished Ahmed’s thought for him; they’d known each other since they were boys and were more like brothers than friends. “But are you sure that we can defeat them?”

“Nadim,” Ahmed laughed and slapped his friend on the shoulder, “we don’t need to!” Again the heavily built, bearded man laughed, “All we have to do is give them enough casualties for the American media to start to call for the withdrawal of their troops…its what the Americans would call a win-win situation…for us!”

“True, true,” Sawalha nodded his head in agreement, “But I still don’t like the idea of you putting yourself in danger like this, what if the Americans succeed?”

“Whatever happens, my friend,” Ahmed became more serious for a moment, “you must not be caught,” he looked his friend in the eye. “You must escape to continue the fight, if I get taken or killed. I am willing to become a martyr for the cause of freedom,” again he laughed, “who’s to say I won’t do more good dead than I ever did alive?”

“Indeed,” again Sawalha nodded his head, “but it would still grieve me if you were to end tomorrow dead.”

“Thank-you, old friend,” Ahmed hugged his ‘brother’, “in that case I shall endeavour to remain alive,” he laughed, “Allah can wait a little longer to enjoy my company!”

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

**Mogador International, 11:21 hrs.**

Standing next to ‘Barney’, her assigned vehicle, Faith watched as the Rangers made their final preparations. Up in the sky over Mogador proper her super-sharp eyes could easily make out the shape of the command-bird (a Blackhawk helicopter carrying a senior officer who’s name she didn’t know) as it flew in circles over the city. Everyone was waiting for the word to go; the Rangers who’d be going in the convey, the ones who would be going in the choppers to cordon off the hotel, and the Delta Force guys who’d be doing the actual assault. Faith didn’t know how they felt but she was feeling nervous. If things went badly this would be her first taste of combat; she wasn’t exactly scared, she never got scared, but she did hold on to her rifle extra hard and wondered if she could actually kill someone if the worst came to the worst.

“Everything alright, Specialist?” Captain Ronson asked as he came up behind her.

“Yes Sir,” Faith turned to face the Doctor and wondered if she was supposed to salute, after all this was a combat area, she decided against it; when Ronson didn’t say anything she sighed with relief having made the right choice. “The vehicle’s checks out okay an’ everything…”

“Actually,” Ronson said quietly, “I was wondering if you were okay.”

“Me Sir?” Faith’s voice went up a notch or two; she coughed to bring it back under control, “I’m fine Sir, never better.”

“I won’t argue with you,” Ronson looked Faith up and down and gave her a half smile, “but if you hold that rifle any tighter it’ll break…look this’ll be a quick in and out we’ll be back on base in half an hour, forty-five minutes tops.”

“Right, Sir,” Faith relaxed her hold on her rifle, “so, if you don’t mind me askin’ why are you coming with us, Sir?”

“Well,” Ronson gave Faith the sort of look that said she was brighter than he’d originally suspected, “Specialist, you know how long I’ve been on base?”

“No, Sir,” Faith replied.

“Toooo freakin’ long,” Ronson shrugged, “I’m bored, even the excitement of a drive into beautiful downtown Mogador is a chance not to be missed.”

The tone of the doctor’s voice told Faith he was joking, the guy must be really sick of the place if he was willing to drive into a possible combat situation when he didn’t have to.

“IRENE!” Someone yelled from over by the communications cabin.

“Who?” Faith gave Ronson a puzzled look.

“Mount up Specialist, we’re on our way!” Captain Ronson climbed into the passenger’s side of the Hummer.

“YO!” Faith burst into action running around the front of the vehicle and then climbing in behind the steering wheel; starting the engine she waited for the word to go.

“Relax, Spec…” Ronson glanced over at Faith, “do you mind if I call you Lehane or even Faith…‘Specialist’ seems so formal.”

“Lehane’s fine Sir,” Faith replied.

“Call me ‘Doc’,” Ronson replied as he watched the Rangers and Delta guys run for their helicopters.

All around them was the organised chaos of men climbing into choppers or Hummers. The convoy they were to be part of consisted of a dozen Humvees and two deuce-and-a-half trucks. The trucks were there to carry the expected haul of prisoners. Each Hummer carried four or five men and had a fifty calibre heavy machine gun mounted on the roof. If everything went as planned they’d be in and out of Mogador before the militiamen even got out of bed.

After watching the helicopters take off, Faith waited for the first Hummers to start moving. Glancing at Ronson she noted that he didn’t look worried at all, so, she thought, there’s no need for her to feel worried either, was there? So, why did she have this really strong feeling that the crap was about to hit the fan? It was like back in basic when she and her buddies had been out on their final field problem and that ‘thing’ had chased them and tried to kill them. She’d know something was going to happen then, just like she did today.

“Okay Lehane,” Ronson’s voice brought Faith back down to earth, “our spot is behind the second truck.”

Letting off the hand brake, Faith put the Hummer into gear and held the vehicle on the foot brake as she watched the first few vehicles head for the gate. Taking her foot off the brake, Faith slipped her Hummer in behind the second truck and picked up speed as the convoy drove out onto the road to Mogador. Looking over at the doctor she saw that he’d put on the headsets and was monitoring the radio. Looking up through the windscreen, Faith saw the helicopters fly over the convoy heading for the town. At the sight of all that airpower, she started to feel a little more confident, perhaps things wouldn’t turn to crap after all, maybe everything would go as planned.

Very soon the convoy passed the first buildings on the outskirts of Mogador. Glancing out of side her window as she drove, Faith saw typical Arab style mud brick buildings interspersed with more modern concrete ones. Already there were people coming out onto the street to shout and gesture angrily at the passing Americans.

“We’re not popular in this part of town,” Ronson observed dryly, “in fact they’d like to kill every one of us if they had the chance.”

“Are we popular anywhere?” Faith wanted to know, “In the city I mean.”

“Closer to the Sultan’s palace,” Ronson explained, “there’s an entire section of the city that loves us!”

“Too bad we’re not goin’ there, Sir,” Faith nodded as she followed the truck in front.

The deeper they drove into the city the more the buildings seemed to press in on them. Five or six story buildings now overlooked the street, mostly rundown looking European style places. Following the truck ahead, Faith found the convoy start to turn off the main road and head into the back streets. Here the buildings were lower and of a more traditional design, the alleys between them were only just wide enough to let the trucks pass down them. Faith began to worry about what would happen if they had to turn around and retrace their route. As far as she could see they’d not be able to turn around until they got back onto the main road. What also concerned Faith were the men she could feel taking up position on the roof tops all around them. If anyone took it into their heads to start shooting they’d be in deep crap. It was then that the sight of great columns of black smoke climbing into the sky and glimpsed between the buildings started to worry Faith.

“What’s with all the smoke?” Faith wanted to know.

“Oh, that’s the way the Skinnies signal to the militia that we’re coming and where we are.”

“Skinnies?” Faith glanced at the doctor.

“Ranger slang for the locals…” Ronson held up his hand to forestall anything else Faith might say as he listened to the radio. “Okay,” Ronson looked over at Faith, “the Delta guys have gone in and the Rangers have cordoned off the area. We’re gonna wait in this side street ‘til we’re called in.”

Sure enough the convoy slowed until it came to a halt. Sitting there gripping the steering wheel, Faith once again felt the presence of men creeping up on them and taking position on the rooftops all around them. Looking out of her side window, she noticed that there wasn’t room to open the door they were so close to the building next to them. If they got hit and they had to bug-out they’d have to get out of the roof hatch…and make themselves perfect targets for anyone with an AK on the roof. It was then the thought hit her that if one of the trucks in front was hit and one of the Hummers behind them was hit they’d be trapped. Faith knew with a certainty that was blinding in its clarity that they were trapped and she was going to die!

The sound of sporadic firing jolted Faith out of her daydream of death, destruction and her own incredibly attractive hide being abused by scores of bloodthirsty militiamen. Looking at Ronson she saw him listening intently to the radio.

“Right,” Ronson took hold of a map of the city and checked their route, “the Delta’s have got the prisoners, we’ll be moving again any time…” the truck ahead of them jerked into motion, “…now!” Ronson laughed, “So far there’s only been one casualty; a Ranger fell out of a chopper. His buddies got him to the hotel, we’ll pick him up there.”

With a profound sense of relief, Faith drove off after the truck. Very soon she found the convoy turning out onto a much wider street and picking up speed. However, all too soon she found them slowing down again, following Ronson’s instructions she pulled out of the convoy and headed on past the other vehicles until they came to a halt at the head of the convoy outside the hotel. Grabbing her rifle, Faith pushed open the door and got out.

“Wait here,” Ronson called as he headed over to a cluster of uniforms around the hotel entrance.

Kneeling down and using the Hummer as cover, Faith held onto her rifle and watched the rooftops on the opposite side of the street from the hotel. Every now and then she could see a head pop up over the walls surrounding the edges of the roofs, Stray rounds cracked above her head to impact the wall of the hotel with dull thuds. Occasionally a round would ‘plink’ against the side of a vehicle as it penetrated the body work; it was just about then that Faith remembered that the Hummers were unarmoured.

Sweeping her rifle barrel back and forth as she checked for targets on the roof tops, Faith found she wasn’t nervous anymore, in fact a strange calm had come over her mixed with a little excitement at what was to come. Kneeling there she examined these new feelings, not something she was prone to do in her normal life, Faith was a very ‘spur of the moment’ type of girl. She found she felt unusually calm and confident, perhaps things were going to turn out better than she thought they would.

“Put him in the back!” Ronson’s voice called; Faith turned her head to see four Rangers slide a stretcher containing the still body of a fifth Ranger into the back of her Hummer. “Okay close her up,” he looked around for Faith, “Lehane we’re leaving…”

Getting to her feet, Faith was just climbing in behind the wheel again when see saw three Delta guys manhandling a big, bearded, Arab looking guy into the back of another Hummer.

“Let me go heathen dogs!” cried the man in accented English.

“That’s Ahmed,” Ronson followed Faith’s eyes to where the Deltas and the Arab struggled, “he’s why we’re here.”

“Roger,” Faith nodded then climbed in all the way into the Hummer, “big fucker ain’t he?”

“Yeah,” Ronson grinned at Faith, before checking on the injured Ranger in the back of the Hummer, “he sure is.”

Seeing the lead Hummer start to move, Faith waited for two or three more to pass her by before spotting a gap between number three and four and slipping into it. Picking up speed they headed down the main road away from the hotel. Above them the choppers flew in endless circles watching for snipers and RPG teams. Feeling her confidence rise at the sight of all this military might, Faith started to work out how long it would take them to get back to the airport. Just as she was thinking that this would make a good story to tell to her buddies in her favourite bar back in Wurzburg all hell seemed to break loose.

Suddenly the rooftops erupted into life as rounds impacted the road in front and around them. Rounds ‘pinged’ against the side of the Hummer as Faith served to avoid a thrown petrol bomb. Struggling to control the Hummer and keep her interval with the vehicle in front, her ears were assaulted by the sound of all the fifty calibres as they open up at once.

“Crap!” Ronson called from the back of the Hummer; turning her head quickly she saw the doctor hunched over the injured Ranger, she also noticed they picked up some new ventilation holes.

Looking out of the windscreen again, Faith saw the lead Hummer take a sharp left and head off down a side road.

“What the hell!?” Faith asked herself as she followed the lead Hummer; wouldn’t it be better to follow the main road?

An RPG rocket flashed in front of her Hummer and exploded against the front of a burnt out store. This seemed to be the signal for everybody in Mogador who had an RPG to fire it. Rockets streaked across the road and between the building. They did little damage to the convoy but they blew the hell out of the buildings either side of he road. Her heart in her mouth, Faith saw a ‘Skinny’ step out of a doorway and point his AK right at her. The next instant the Skinny was splashed to the four winds as a RPG round hit him and exploded.

Now they were in the side road the convoy had slowed down dramatically. The sound of heavy firing echoed and re-echoed off the flat walls as fifty calibre bullets ripped the mud brick walls to dust and sent snipers tumbling from there positions to fall dead into the street. Some part of Faith’s mind was telling her that these guys couldn’t shoot for shit. As long as she kept her head down she had a good chance of getting out of this with her incredibly hot ass intact.

Coming to a junction the convoy turned sharp right, heaving on the wheel Faith was just starting to turn when her world went orange and very quiet. Feeling herself spinning Faith tried to work out what was happening. For a moment she felt like she was flying, there was no up or down there was only herself in the entire universe. An instant later there was noise, smoke and flame, slowly it registered that the Hummer had been hit. Looking out of the smashed up windscreen Faith saw blood on the cracked glass, she also saw that the front of the Hummer was buried in the corner of a house. Turning to look into the back of the vehicle she nearly lost her lunch as she saw that Doc Ronson and the injured Ranger had been chopped to dog meat by the RPG.

Get out, Faith told herself, she had to get out. Pushing open the door she was vaguely aware of a Hummer stopping next to the wreck of her own. Stepping out of the door she stumbled and fell. Groaning, Faith put her hand to her head. Her helmet had gone and when she took her hand away she saw it had blood on it. Lying in the sand next to the burning Hummer, Faith retched and threw up. Trying to push herself up onto her feet, she felt her head spin and she fell to the ground again.

Half hidden by the smouldering Hummer, Faith went unnoticed as the men in the following Hummer checked out the wreck. Quickly recovering the bodies of the dead doctor and Ranger they climbed back into their own vehicle and left Faith lying in the sand under the Hummer.

Only moments later, Faith woke up and climbed to her knees just in time to see the Tail End Charlie disappear around another corner and drive out of sight. Kneeling there, Faith realised she’d been left behind, unarmed and alone in a city full of people who’d happily gang rape and kill her.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

**Central Mogador, 12:39 hrs.**

“Get off the street,” Faith told herself as she edged away from the burning Hummer.

Luckily the vehicle wasn’t burning so badly that she couldn’t use it for cover for at least a few more minutes. However it was burning fiercely enough to consume her rifle which had been clipped above the dashboard. Looking up and down the street Faith saw no cover, nowhere to hide while she worked out what she was going to do. Shifting her gaze slightly, she saw a door in the otherwise featureless wall of the building opposite her. It would mean she’d have to cross the street in full view of any Skinnies who happened to be looking her way but it looked like it was the only game in town.

“Time to find out if this super-strength is good for more than PT and popping beer caps,” Faith told herself as she prepared herself to run for the door.

Coming out from behind the Hummer, Faith aimed herself at the door and launched herself across the narrow street. Expecting to be shot down at almost any moment she covered the distance to the door in two or three strides. Hitting the wooden door with her shoulder she found herself stumbling into a dimly lit room. The door bounced against the wall and started to swing shut, Faith helped it on its way with her foot before throwing herself against the door to keep it closed.

“Wow!” Faith gasped, “That was easy!”

Smiling to herself Faith realised that her arm didn’t even hurt where she’d hit the door. Just as she was about to tell herself that maybe the door hadn’t been locked her eyes fell on the heavy bolts that had secured the door, they were both hanging by screws from the wood work.

“Jeez Louise,” Faith sighed quietly, “did I do that?”

Just as Faith was about to start to look around for another way out she noticed the woman and the children huddled together in the middle of the floor.

“Oh god!” Faith whispered quietly as her eyes frantically searched the room for anyone else that she might not have noticed.

The woman crouched on the floor surrounded by maybe half a dozen children who whimpered in their fear. Faith’s eyes fell on the couple of old, battered school desks, stools and the chipped blackboard on the wall.

“God-damn-it,” Faith breathed as she realised where she was, “a skinny school…” Faith found herself looking into the frightened eyes of the woman who was playing the part of teacher in this little drama. “Okay lady,” Faith said calmly as she started to head across the room towards the back of the building, “I ain’t gonna hurt ya or the kids, I’m outta here.”

Gaining the other side of the room Faith discovered another door; opening it she found a short corridor leading to yet another door. Quickly walking up to the second door, she opened it a crack and peeped outside. Looking into a deserted courtyard Faith couldn’t immediately see any other exits. Realising that she couldn’t stay here much longer she went out into the courtyard and shut the door firmly behind her.

Now Faith found herself in a tiny courtyard maybe twelve foot square, there was no door leading out of it other than the one she’d just come through, but the walls didn’t look too high for her to climb out. Realising now that her instructors back in basic had a point about being able to climb over walls, Faith jumped and grabbed hold of the top of the wall. Pulling herself up easily, she paused on top of the wall to take her bearings. The wall separated the courtyard from another sandy street just like the one she’d recently left, however, this one didn’t contain a burning Hummer or any signs of fresh fighting. Jumping down from the wall Faith crouched against the wall for a moment before heading off at a steady jog in what she hoped was the right direction.

0=0=0=0

**The Temple of the Great One, 12:47 hrs.**

Flinching at the sound of an explosion that was far too close and far too loud, Ayesha looked up at all the dust that fell like gentle rain from the roof of the temple. Turning her head to where her sister priestess sat, she didn’t find any comfort there. Waheeda was sitting cross legged on the floor with a heavy book resting on her thighs, she rocked backwards and forwards and giggled insanely as she read the incantations in the spell book.

As every moment past, Ayesha couldn’t help thinking that this was a very bad idea. The day before she’d sort of convinced herself that it didn’t matter whether they did the ritual or not, nothing would happen, the Great One would not rise from the sea and take control of the world in a frenzy of death and insanity. All she’d need to do after this ‘failure’ to raise the Great One would be to quietly put a bullet in her old friends head and convince the faithful that maybe next time they’d get it right.

But, last night the dreams had come, dreams of such vivid clarity that for a while Ayesha thought she was actually awake and the Great One was dragging his huge bloated body from the ocean depths as he waded towards the shore. Waking with her bedding soaked with sweat, Ayesha had realised that the spell would work and that unless she really wanted the world to be destroyed and herself to go unimaginably insane she had to stop Waheeda from completing the ritual. Her hand moved slowly towards where her pistol was hidden under her robes, but it froze before she even touched the cool metal and plastic. If she shot Waheeda now the guards would shoot her as surely as night followed day.

“Do you think we should do the ritual today?” Ayesha asked, “I mean won’t all the fighting spoil the spells?”

“NO!” Waheeda shrieked as she looked up from the book, her eyes glowing with some strange dark inner fire; Ayesha took a step back from her one time friend and reconsidered her shooting options. “No!” Waheeda repeated in a slightly less insane tone, “All the death and suffering will only encourage the Great One to Rise and take back his world.”

“Yeah,” Ayesha took another step away from her old friend, “okay, I get that.” Looking around Ayesha searched for and escape route, she needed to get away to think for a moment, “Look…I’ll tell you what,” Ayesha smiled at the insane woman sitting on the floor, “I’ll go check on the sacrifices while you…” Ayesha was at a loss as to what to say or suggest, “…you…you carry on doing whatever it is your doing!

Heading out of the room, Ayesha walked quickly towards the cages where the sacrifices were stored, she needed to think of some way of stopping this and remaining alive and she needed to do it quickly.

0=0=0=0

**Mogador, 13:12 hrs.**

Stopping in a doorway, Faith pushed back the hair that had come undone from the bun she normally wore it in while on duty, and tried to workout what she should do next. Although no one was shooting at her right at this moment, there was still a lot of firing going on near by. It was difficult to tell just by listening, but some weird ‘combat sense’ that Faith hadn’t realised she’d got was telling her that she was following the main battle as it headed back towards the airport. All she needed to do was to go where her senses told her and she’d get out of this alive.

“But,” Faith told herself quietly as she put a rubber band around her hair to hold it in a pony tail and away from her face, “what would be good is if I could find me a gun or something…”

Her instincts seemed to be pulling her towards the other side of the road. The street she was in appeared to run east-west as near as she could tell and she wanted to go south. Shrugging her shoulders, Faith trotted across the street until she came to a door that would lead her into the building. Experience had shown that she could go through buildings almost as easily as she could run along the streets, there was also the benefit of not being a target for snipers while she was inside.

Kicking open the door, Faith threw herself to one side and took cover pressing herself against the wall. When no burst of gunfire greeted her sudden appearance she looked cautiously into the building. All she saw was another stinking, skinny hovel; pushing herself away from the wall she passed through the house quickly until she came out onto the street on the opposite side of the building. Just as she was congratulating herself on solving one more problem her ears picked up the sound of metal on metal.

Turning to her right, Faith saw a Skinny struggling with the magazine of his AK. Obviously the sound she’d heard was that of the hammer striking a firing pin which itself hit an empty chamber. Seeing the American suddenly appear out of the house the Skinny had tried to fire but his weapon was empty. Just as Faith was ready to pounce on the Skinny and rip his weapon from his hands, she felt something like an itch in the small of her back. Not questioning her feelings, she stepped back into the doorway just in time not to be hit by a burst of automatic fire from behind her.

The Skinny in the street wasn’t so lucky, half a dozen rounds stitched their way across his chest like bright red flowers blooming on his dirty white shirt. The Skinny dropped his weapon and fell to the ground. For a moment there was silence as Faith prepared to tackle the other shooter if he gave her half a chance to do so. Then, much to her surprise a boy, no more than about twelve appeared as he ran towards the downed man, his AK huge against his slight frame. Quickly Faith’s mind told her what had happen, the boy had accidentally shot his father when she’d stepped out of his line of fire.

“Better him than me,” Faith breathed quietly as she stepped out of the doorway again.

Coming up quickly behind the boy, Faith hit him hard enough to knock him out without doing too much harm, she didn’t want to kill the kid even though he’d obviously wanted to kill her. Rolling the boy off his dead father, Faith grabbed his AK; checking it over quickly she saw that it was reasonably clean and seemed to be in good working condition. Putting the AK to one side she unbuckled the boys webbing gear with its ammunition pouches and slung it over her shoulder. Quickly she went through the pouches on the father’s gear and came up with three full magazines.

“Cool,” Faith smiled as she tried to organise her new equipment, “coulda done with some grenades but beggars can’t be choosers.”

They boy groaned and Faith thought it was a good time to leave, after taking the magazine from the father’s weapon, Faith trotted off down the street to find herself somewhere to get herself organised and decide what to do next. Now she had a weapon a strange feeling that she should take a more active part in the battle had come over her.

0=0=0=0

**The Temple of the Great One, 13:33 hrs.**

Looking into the big iron cage that held the sobbing sacrifices, Ayesha counted them for a second time hoping against hope that she’d come up one short. If they were a sacrifice down she could claim to be going out to find another one to bring them up to the desired number. Once out of the temple she could disappear into the city, Waheeda couldn’t do the ritual by herself, no one need die and the Great One wouldn’t rise. 

With a disappointed sigh, Ayesha came to the end of her counting; even counting two children as one adult there were more than enough sacrifices here for the ritual. It was becoming clear to Ayesha that unless something totally unexpected happened soon she’d have to take matters into her own hands. For a moment she considered trying to get the guards to kill Waheeda or the sacrifices. Almost as quickly as the thought had come to her she’d discarded it. This close to the ritual, Waheeda’s control over the guards was too strong. Ayesha knew that she could never get them to do anything unusual without first checking with Waheeda. Sadly, Ayesha touched the butt of her pistol, time was running short. Unless something happened to save her she’d have to kill Waheeda and then die herself when the guards turned their guns on her.

0=0=0=0

**Mogador, 13:47 hrs.**

After adjusting the straps on the boy’s webbing, Faith put it on over her body armour and made a few last minute adjustments. Satisfied with the fit, Faith let her fingers run over the tops of the magazines where they rested in their pouches; she had seven full magazines and one about half full. Hopefully that would be enough to see her through until she got back to base. Of course as long as she could get to the bodies of the enemy dead she could take their ammunition. With just a little luck she could keep fighting for quite some time.

Pausing for just a moment, Faith thought about these knew feeling she was having. Suddenly the idea of fighting seemed the most natural thing for her to do, it was like a switch had been turned in her head. The only time she’d felt like this before was back in basic when she’d fought the monster in the woods, or, when she’d been attacked by those weirdo monks a couple of Christmases ago; she’d felt odd then and strangely satisfied after that fight. It was almost like the feeling of satisfaction she got after good sex but different some how.

Deciding that the centre of a hostile city was not the place to examine the feeling that she could take on the world…and win. Faith pushed herself to her feet, after checking that her shinny new AK47 was loaded and ready to go she trotted along the deserted street towards the sound of the guns. Yeah, she’d heard that phrase before somewhere; something about always marching to the sound of the guns. Faith didn’t know about marching, running seemed a much better idea.

Trotting along the street keeping close to the buildings on her left, just in case she had to take cover; Faith watched the roof tops for snipers. In fact she was watching the roof tops so intently that she almost didn’t notice that she’d run out of buildings. Luckily there was a Skinny militiaman in a ‘Technical’ there to remind her.

Jumping back from the hail of heavy calibre machine gun rounds that sent up showers of dust and debris all around her, Faith back peddled as she let off a few rounds of her own. Once back in cover, she threw herself against a wall and checked that she was all still in one piece.

“Stupid bitch,” Faith cursed herself, “what ya tryin’ to do, get y’self killed!?”

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

**Mogador, 14:06 hrs.**

“OH CRAP!” Once again Faith ducked back into cover as an RPG flew through the air and slammed into the building she was hiding behind.

The force of the explosion made her teeth rattle and her ears ring, dust billowed up all around her making her cough and sneeze. However, once she’d opened her eyes again as the air cleared, she found that apart from being covered in white-ish dust she was unharmed. The RPG had impacted the building, okay, but it had failed to penetrate to where she was hiding. Once more, Faith crawled to the corner of the house and peeped around the wall; the guy in the back of the Technical was still sending long bursts of machinegun fire in her general direction.

Flinching a little as the heavy rounds buried themselves in the wall, Faith realised that all the bullets were hitting the house at about head height. Bringing her own weapon up so she could draw a bead on the machine gunner, Faith idly wondered whether these Skinny guys had ever heard of actually aiming their weapons. The guy in the pick-up was a good example, he had his very own style of ‘spray and pray’. Half his rounds flew off down the street to her right not hitting anything until they impacted the buildings fifty or a hundred metres behind her position. The rest hit the wall above her head doing her no harm other than to cover her in brick dust and bits of debris.

Hardly bothering to aim herself, Faith stroked the trigger of her AK twice, smiling she saw two bright red flowers bloom on the gunner’s chest. Throwing up his arms he let go of the gun and fell over the side of the pick-up. Almost before she’d finished congratulating herself on a good shot, another Skinny had jumped up and taken the place of the dead man. Shooting the would-be gunner before he’d even got the weapon properly in his hands, Faith gasped with surprise as yet another Skinny jumped up behind the machine gun.

It was about at this point that Faith lost her patience with the Skinnies, flipping the AK’s selector to full automatic she fired off the rest of the magazine at the Technical. Holes appeared all down the side of the vehicle and the third replacement gunner was hit several times; the force of the bullets spinning him around until he too fell over the side of the pick-up and joined his comrades in the dust. By the time Faith’s AK ran dry the Technical was starting to burn, she must have clipped a fuel line and the gas must have been ignited by a spark or something.

Swapping the empty magazine for a full one; Faith clambered to her feet and ran across the open lot that the Technical and its crew had been guarding. Gaining the safety of the buildings on the other side of the gap, she took a moment to assess her situation. Gunfire sounded all around her but seemed to be heaviest to the east. There was no one threatening her at the moment so she took the time to look around and pick an alley to go down instead of just running blindly down the first street that took her fancy.

Picking a narrow alley on the opposite side of the street from her, Faith checked out both directions before running into the open. Her new found ‘combat sense’ seemed to be telling her she was safe to switch position. Sprinting across the road she halted for a moment in the alley entrance and looked back the way she’d just come just as a Blackhawk flew low and slow over her position firing at something off to her left. Just for a moment Faith considered stepping out into the open and trying to attract the chopper crew’s attention. Almost as quickly as the idea had come to her mind she rejected it. The crew of the helo probably wouldn’t spot her and it was too risky exposing herself to Skinny snipers to take the chance.

Turning away from the main street and the chopper, Faith moved deeper into the alley. It was narrow, no more than four or five feet wide. The surface under her boots was mainly sand mixed in with the accumulated crap of half a dozen centuries. The buildings either side of the alley were all one or two stories high with the usual flat roofs and the occasional door leading out onto the alley itself. The first twenty metres or so were straight then it did a sharp left hand turn. Without thinking, after all she was new to this combat stuff, Faith ran around the corner and straight into an entire platoon of Skinny militiamen coming the other way.

For a split second, Faith and the Skinnies exchanged surprised looks. Luckily for Faith her new combat senses took over her body for a couple of seconds, long enough to get her to point her AK and pull the trigger. The weapon yammered in her hands as the long muzzle flash reached for the nearest Skinny soldiers. The heavy 7.62mm rounds slammed into the front rank of militiamen often passing right through them and into the bodies of the men behind. Screaming and falling as their blood splashed over the ground and walls the surviving Skinnies tried to fall back but were blocked by their comrades in the rear who were pressing forward effectively blocking any retreat.

Afterwards, Faith always thought that had she had a bigger magazine she could have killed all of them, but unfortunately she didn’t and after thirty rounds the AK stopped firing.

“OOOOH! CRAAAAAP!!” Faith wailed as she turned tail and ran for her life, chased by the desultory fire of the surviving Skinnies.

Running, her feet hardly seeming to touch the ground, Faith found herself out on the main road again. Turning to her right, she ran for all she was worth until she came level with another apparently empty alleyway. Ducking into shelter, Faith took a second or two to discard her empty magazine and slam in a new one. As she did so a little voice at the back of her mind told her she was using up ammunition at an alarming rate so she better start looking out for more.

Looking back out onto the street she saw the angry Skinnies boil out into the open. For a moment they stood in the middle of the street looking around for the American force that had ambushed them. Taking up a firing position against the corner of the alley, Faith brought her rifle up to her shoulder and started to fire. This time it wasn’t any wild burst, this time it was single aimed shots that knocked down Skinnies one by one as single rounds hit them in the head. 

Almost stepping outside herself for a moment, Faith wondered at her marksmanship. Back in basic she’d been good, good enough to qualify as a marksman, but she’d hardly touched a rifle since, she’d certainly never fired an AK47 in her life. So why was she able to knock these guys down as if they were pop-up targets on the range? She found she hardly needed to aim she just pointed the weapon and pulled the trigger; it was almost as if someone was doing it all for her.

Never being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Faith kept on firing until the surviving Skinnies had run for cover and started to fire back, not necessarily in her direction but fire back they did and there was always a chance one of them would get lucky and hit her by mistake. Swapping magazines, once again something was telling her that moving with a full magazine was better than moving with a half full one, Faith turned and ran up the street and away from the Skinnies.

0=0=0=0

**Temple of the Great One, 14:27 hrs.**

Much to her sorrow, Ayesha found it was time to start the ritual. Having sat by herself, apparently meditating, but really struggling with her conscience and cowardice, she still hadn’t shot Waheeda and saved the world from this insanity. Now the ritual had begun and very soon the Great Old One would rise from the sea and lay waste to the world while she and the Great Ones followers cheered him insanely from the shore.

It was her job during the ritual to slit the throats of the sacrifices passed to her by the guards as Waheeda read out the spell. It would take the deaths of at least three quarters of the sacrifices before The Great One would rise from the sea, the remainder would die to fix the Great One’s place in this reality and let him roam at will across the world.

Drawing the sacrificial knife and testing its sharpness with her thumb, Ayesha, listened to the firing outside for a moment before nodding to one of the guards. The guard dragged the weakly struggling boy across the temple floor towards the spot where Ayesha stood. Glancing to her right she saw Waheeda start to mumble the opening passages of the spell. As the guard held the terrified boy’s arms down by his side, Ayesha grabbed hold of his hair and forced his head back exposing his throat. The boy screamed as the edge of the knife touched his neck and Ayesha waited for the phrase that would tell her it was time for the first sacrifice to die.

Hearing the words, Ayesha ran the knife across the boy’s throat. The blade bit into the skin and gristle of the child’s neck easily; blood spurted as the boy’s muscles spasmed as he died. Stepping back the guard let the boy fall to the floor. The child pawed uselessly at the gapping wound in his neck for just a moment until blood loss finally stilled him.

“Another!” Ordered Ayesha as she listened carefully to Waheeda’s mutterings and the spell went on.

0=0=0=0

**Mogador, 14:46.**

Pausing for a moment, Faith exchanged fire with a crowd of Skinnies who were chasing her down the alleyway. Having picked this mob up a few minutes previously, Faith had kept running and turning occasionally to fire just to keep them at a safe distance. Unlike the earlier alleyway this one was twice the width and she didn’t really feel she could inflict enough casualties fast enough to stop them from pursuing her. Also the wider the alley the more Skinnies who could shoot back and the more chance that one of them would hit her.

Running from the doorway she’d taken cover in, Faith sprinted on down the alley as the Skinnies recovered from the effects of her fire and sent a wild volley of shots after her. Just as she was taking cover in a large doorway that housed a big, old, heavy wooden door Faith stared down the alleyway in front of her as yet another mob of Skinnies appeared and blocked off her escape route.

“FUCK IT!” Faith cursed as she pressed her back against the heavy double door behind her.

Bullets started the whiz pasted her incredibly cute nose as the Skinnies opened up on each other. Flinching back from the volume of fire heading up and down the street, Faith wondered how she was going to get out of this situation, if only she could open the door behind her…

0=0=0=0

**The Temple of the Great One, 14:48 hrs.**

Pausing with her knife resting against the throat of a young girl, Ayesha listened to the shooting going on outside. It seemed to her practiced ears that there was a battle going on right outside the temple, she gestured to one of the guards to come over.

“Go outside and check on that noise,” Ayesha ordered as she slit the girl’s throat.

“I obey,” the guard bowed to her before heading for the front door.

0=0=0=0

**The Temple of the Great One, 14:49 hrs.**

Freezing in the doorway, Faith heard the door being unlocked even over the sound of the gun battle taking place only a few inches in front of her nose. She’d just had time to turn herself around and get ready to fight when the door opened and she was confronted by possibly the biggest man she’d ever seen. Faith was five-foot-five tall and this guy must have topped her by more than a foot.

Not that it seemed to matter to her, without pausing to think she rammed the muzzle of her AK into the guy’s solar plexus as hard as she could. Surprised for a moment, Faith froze as she watched the big Skinny fly across the hallway behind him and crash into the far wall. Slowly and reminding Faith of a cartoon, he slid down the wall to sit slumped on the floor with blood trickling from his mouth.

“Fuck me!” Faith breathed softly as her body reacted to what she’d just done; instead of throwing up, which would have been perfectly normal, she felt a strange and totally inappropriate wave of sexual craving go through her body.

Shaking these feelings off, Faith stepped into the gloom of the hallway and pushed the great doors closed behind her and bolted them shut. Now the sound of firing outside had diminished her sensitive ears picked up what sounded like chanting. Not knowing very much about religion in Yemalia, Faith sort of assumed that she’d burst in on a church or something. Whatever, she needed to get out, heading for the only other door in the hallway Faith started her search for the back way out.

Barging through the door, Faith found herself in a large circular room. Shafts of sunlight coming through a multicoloured decorative skylight illuminated the vision of hell before her. In the middle of the floor right under the skylight, a woman in bloody robes stood calmly slitting the throats of children with a long sharp knife. To one side of her stood another woman chanting insanely from a huge book as eerily coloured lights danced all around her casting weird shadows on the wall.

Not needing anyone to tell her that this was wrong, the dead children and all the blood sort of gave her a clue to that, Faith brought her AK up to her hip, she’d started to fire even before the guards stationed around the chamber had really registered her presence. Gunning down the woman with the knife first, Faith next changed her aim to the guards as they started to bring up their own weapons to return fire. Shooting down each guard with a short controlled burst of fire, Faith finally aimed at the woman with the book who’d continued to chant even while gunfire erupted all around her.

The burst of fire slashed across the woman’s body sending it tumbling across the floor of the chamber. Pages of the book, shredded by Faith’s bullets, flew into the air to flutter and slowly settle onto the blood slick floor like some sort of foul, dirty grey snow. Still holding her AK at hip level, Faith watched for new targets as smoke rose lazily from her barrel. Satisfied that there were no more men with guns or women with sharp knives, she moved over to where the surviving children cowered.

“Scat!” Faith called as she cut the ropes that bound their hands and feet, none of the children moved they were obviously too terrified to even escape. “Whatever,” Faith shrugged, she’d done what she could, no doubt the kids would get the idea and go after she’d gone.

Pausing only to replenish her ammunition supply from the pouches of the dead guards, Faith moved towards the back of the chamber where she found a door. This led into a small store room with another door leading to a short corridor with yet another door at the far end. Opening the door with her boot, Faith walked out into sunlight and took a deep cleansing breath of the smoke and cordite laced air.

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	7. Chapter 7

7.

_Valley Forge, Custer's ranks,  
San Juan Hill and Patton's tanks,  
And the Army went rolling along  
Minute men, from the start,  
Always fighting from the heart,  
And the Army keeps rolling along._

**Mogador, 16:19 hrs.**

It had been nearly five hours since the mission that was supposed to only last an hour had started and about four hours since Faith had been left behind. Not that she was complaining, oddly (and this she found just a little scary) she’d been enjoying herself wandering around Mogador fighting the militiamen. 

Following the sound of the fighting, Faith had always arrived just after the battle had moved on. In one way this was good, it meant that she’d not had to fight any large groups of militia since the church. On the other hand it was bad, because she never quite caught up with the America troops as they fought their way towards the airport. It was looking increasingly likely that if she was going to make it back to the airport and the Ranger base, she was going to have to do it all by herself. Unfortunately over the four hours she’d been wandering around Mogador she’d got just a little turned around.

The narrow streets and tall buildings prevented her from getting a good fix on her location; she had no map and didn’t have a good mental picture of the relative positions of the town and the base. However she did remember the view she’d got of the town when she’d been flown in. The airport was just inland from the sea, if she could find her way to the shore she could work her way along the beach before striking inland and hopefully locating the airport like that. First, however, she needed to find the coast.

It was as she turned into a slightly wider street that she saw the helicopter. It span through the air getting lower and lower as it went leaving a spiral of smoke in its wake. Head up and keeping her eyes on the aircraft, Faith started to run following the chopper’s erratic course as it headed for the ground. Someone was bound to send a rescue mission for the crew so maybe she could get picked up as well, also the crew would probably need some help after they’d crashed. You didn’t leave people behind, you helped out as you could. Although Faith was feeling just a little ‘left behind’ she knew she had to help however ‘let down’ she might feel at the army just now.

Thinking she’d lost the Blackhawk as it disappeared behind a building, Faith ran into what had been a picturesque square with a fountain in the middle. Now it was just a dusty open area littered with the burnt out wrecks of a couple of cars and a truck. The fountain had been reduced to a smashed up piece of masonry, but more importantly the square contained the wreck of the Blackhawk. It lay mostly up right like a strange dark green whale that had some how been washed up by the sea. The tail rotor had gone, probably blown off by an RPG. The main rotors were bent and broken and a thin trail of smoke rose from the engine compartment.

Running across the deserted square, Faith could see no movement that might indicate that any of the crew were still alive. Distracted for a moment by the sound of another chopper, Faith slowed and stopped half way to the downed Blackhawk. Looking up into the sky she saw another helicopter orbiting around the crash site way up there out of rifle and RPG range. It gave no sign of swooping down and rescuing anyone. Perhaps, thought Faith as she started to run towards the chopper again, perhaps it was the command bird and even now a rescue mission was being launched. If it was, Faith hoped it would get here soon. Now she was closer to the Blackhawk she could see the door gunner slumped over his mini-gun, he didn’t look too good.

Coming to a halt, Faith checked the gunner for a pulse, finding none she removed her hand, it came away bloody. The gunner looked as if he’d been riddled with bullets or shrapnel from the hit that had taken out the tail rotor. Clambering into the helicopter, Faith checked on the pilot in the right hand seat. Once again she couldn’t find a pulse, the pilot’s head was at a weird angle and Faith guessed he’d broken his neck. Without much hope she next turned to the pilot in the left hand seat and nearly wet herself when he groaned at her touch.

“Jeeez!” Faith gasped, “Don’t do that man!”

“What the hell!?” the pilot opened his eyes and looked at Faith in astonishment, “You’re a woman!”

“Sure am, L-t,” Faith replied having spotted the pilot’s rank insignia, “where’s it hurt?”

“I think I’ve broken my arm,” the pilot winced as he tried to move his left arm, “my head feels like someone hit it with a sledge hammer and my back feels kinda weird…now, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Short version,” Faith replied as she checked the pilot for another wounds, “I was driving an ambulance, it got blown to hell and back and I got left behind.”

“Shit, when was that?” the pilot asked, probably more to keep his mind off the pain as Faith checked put his arm before putting in a sling then really wanting to know.

“Oh,” Faith ripped open a dressing and started to make it into a sling for the pilots injured arm, “about four hours ago.”

“And you’ve been…OWWWW!” screamed the pilot.

“Sorry, L-t!” Faith backed away from the pilot a little; she’d got a sling on his arm and that was about the best she could do for him at the moment.

Looking out through the smashed glass of the windscreen, Faith noticed that the square wasn’t as deserted at it once had been. Here and there, standing on the roofs of the surrounding dwellings, she could see women calling to unseen people behind the buildings. At the entrances to the square Faith saw little crowds of Skinnies begin to form, some had weapons most had not, but she was beginning to feel very uneasy about this.

“You got a weapon, L-t?” Faith asked as she checked her AK was fully loaded.

“Yeah I got an MP5 somewhere, why?” the pilot followed Faith’s gaze and saw the gathering crowds for the first time.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to move,” Faith explained as she took hold of the pilot as gently as she could and started to lift him out of his seat.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll nev…AAAAAGH!” the pilot screamed as Faith lifted him out of his seat and into the rear of the chopper. “Christ!” gasped the pilot as he looked at Faith in wonder, “You’re stronger than you look…”

“Sure, L-t,” Faith started to automatically divert the pilot’s attention away from her super-strength, “it’s nothing, it’s all to do with leverage, y’know?”

“To hell with leverage,” the pilot eyed Faith warily, “that was raw strength how’d…?”

“Hey, okay, so I’m tough,” Faith shrugged; by now she was more interesting in the crowd outside than what the pilot had to say, “but don’t go spreading it around, a girl has her reputation to think of…”

The pilot laughed then winced; Faith reached into the flight deck and retrieved the pilot’s MP5, she handed him the weapon.

“Here ya go, L-t locked an’ loaded,” Faith moved towards the door of the chopper, “watch my back.”

Stepping out of the Blackhawk, Faith trotted over to a low mud brick wall, it wasn’t much cover but it’d have to do. Getting down behind the wall she aimed her weapon at a man with an AK who looked like he was going to start using it. Within seconds her suspicions were confirmed. The Skinny started to run towards the Blackhawk firing his weapon from the hip. Hardly aiming, Faith shot him down with one round.

As the first man fell another started to run towards Faith’s position, he too slid to a halt, a bullet through his head. By now Faith found herself firing steadily as Skinnies ran at her firing whatever weapons they happened to have. Others jumped about firing their weapons wildly in her general direction as a large angry crowd moved in and added bottles and stones to the hail of missiles that headed her way. 

As long as she had rounds and the Skinnies kept up these individual attacks, Faith felt confident that she could hold them off. However there was a problem, when Faith came to reload she found she only had one full magazine left. Okay, she also had a couple with perhaps ten rounds in each, so, maybe fifty rounds in all. Glancing at the crowd before shooting down another attacker, Faith calculated that the crowd now numbered in the hundreds; she was going to run out of ammunition long before she ran out of crowd and even she missed sometimes.

Hearing the pilot’s MP5 go off, Faith looked over her shoulder to see a Skinny fall to the ground behind her, his only weapon had been a machete which slid along the ground as he dropped it on being hit. Deciding the crowd was too close, Faith got up from behind the wall, still firing she retreated towards the Blackhawk. Taking cover in the back of the helo with the pilot, Faith cast a longing look at the useless mini-gun and all its ammunition; without electricity it was just a useless hunk of metal.

Shooting down yet another Skinny, Faith came to the end of her last full magazine. Swapping the empty for a partially full one, she was just in time to put a couple of rounds into a Skinny who was firing a pistol at her from about three yards away and still missing! Firing steadily, she soon came to the end of that magazine.

“Last mag!” Faith cried as she slammed home the magazine and shot a Skinny who was intent on killing her with his razor sharp sword.

“Get outta here!” Called the pilot as he used his MP5 to support Faith’s fire.

“No way, L-t!” Faith fired off her last few rounds, dropped her AK and started to look around for another weapon.

“That’s an order!” the pilot swapped his magazines round just quickly enough to be in time to shoot another crazy Skinny, “they’ll rape you to death if you don’t get outta here…”

“Told you once, L-t,” Faith reached in to the flight deck and reappeared with the dead pilot’s pistol, “no-way! We don’t leave people behind!”

Lifting the pistol, Faith put two rounds into the chest of another Skinny. The man kept running even though he was dead and crashed into the chopper to fall on top of Faith. Struggling with the body Faith fought her way clear to see a whole swarm of Skinnies closing in on the chopper.

“I’M OUT!” Yelled the pilot as he dropped his empty weapon.

Snatching up an abandoned AK, Faith tossed her pistol to the pilot. Juggling the assault rifle so it was pointing in the right direction, she pulled the trigger. For a second or two the AK barked and she cut down two or three more Skinnies before it ran dry. Just for an instant, Faith remembered the scene in ‘Aliens’ where the Marine and the officer were trapped in the air vents as the Aliens closed in…only difference was she didn’t have a grenade to blow herself and the pilot up and take a few Skinnies with her.

Climbing out of the Blackhawk, Faith started to beat at the Skinnies using the AK as a club. If she was going to die, she told herself, she was going to go down fighting and take as many of these stinking bastards with her as she could. The Skinnies were all over her now, they beat her to the ground, but still she fought back using her fists, feet even her teeth, but she knew her life was now counted in seconds and not the years she’d hoped for; some part of her hoped that this had all been worthwhile.

It was as she was trying to twist the head off one last Skinny that Faith noticed that the press of bodies on top of her wasn’t as bad as it had been. Suddenly she could hear screaming and a sound like ripping canvas over the noise made by rotor blades. Finding herself alone on the ground and surrounded by only bodies, she looked up to see a Blackhawk hovering about fifty feet above the crash site. A long flame reached from the cargo door as someone used a mini-gun to flay the crowd and drive it back. Once the crowd was running the first Blackhawk rose up in the air and took station to keep back the Skinnies as another chopper landed and disgorged half a dozen armed men. Two men ran towards her as the others made their way towards the downed Blackhawk.

“You okay?” Asked the first trooper to get to Faith.

“Yeah sure,” Faith pushed herself up into a sitting position as the down wash from the chopper’s rotors whipped her hair around her face, “the pilot…” Faith pointed at the downed helo.

“Don’t worry we’ve got him,” replied the rescue trooper as he helped Faith to her feet, “lets get you outta here!”

0=0=0=0

**The Epilogue.**

**Temple of the Great One, 17:50hrs.**

Bursting into the main chamber of the temple, Captain Finn, US Army Rangers, looked around at all the dead bodies lying on the floor. He and his men had been tasked with destroying the temple and the cultists, but someone had beaten him to it.

“Looks like you’re a little late, old boy,” called a voice from out of the shadows.

Turning, Riley centred the muzzle of his CAR-15 on the stomach of what looked like a short but tough looking militiaman.

“Steady on old chap,” the man’s upper class British accent was at odds with his appearance, “no need to get trigger happy.” 

As if to reinforce his words several shadows detached themselves from nooks and crannies and stepped out into the open. Riley relaxed a little as he saw the mixture of CAR-15’s and MP-5’s the militiamen were carrying.

“Captain Caine, SAS,” the short militiaman introduced himself, “I presume you’re Captain Finn, 613th Ranger Company?”

“You got it,” Riley admitted, trust the Brits to beat him to the prize, he’d never hear the last of this now, Riley gestured at all the bodies, “did you…?”

“Oh no, not us old boy,” a wide grin split Caine’s face as he walked over to join Riley, “we thought you’d done it.”

“Not us,” Riley confirmed.

“Well,” Caine sighed, “this is a bit of a poser…if it wasn’t you and it absolutely wasn’t us, well,” Caine raised an eyebrow at Riley, “who the hell was it?”

“No idea,” Riley lied as several ideas popped into his mind, the CIA? The French? The locals?

Squatting down next to one of the bodies, Riley examined its wounds or should he say ‘wound’, the priestess had been shot neatly through the forehead.

“We’ve already had a look around,” Caine explained as he came up behind Riley, “best as we can work out; someone came in through the front door and then calmly shot everyone in here.”

“Any clues as to who?” Riley pushed himself to his feet and turned to face the British officer.

“Well there’s the thing old chap,” Caine chuckled, he seemed to be finding this all very amusing and it was starting to grate on Riley. “the only empty cases we found were short 7.62 from AK’s, so I’d guess that unless the locals did it…”

“Looks too neat and tidy for Skinnies,” Riley pointed out.

“Indeed,” agreed Caine, “my thoughts exactly, so unless it was the Russians I’ll admit to being a bit stumped!”

“Yeah,” Riley looked at all the bodies again and pushed his helmet onto the back of his head, “whatever,” he shrugged, “whoever did it is long gone by now…”

“And left us with a bit of a mystery,” Caine nodded, “all it leaves us to do is to tidy up a bit.”

“I’ll deal with that if you like,” Riley turned and signalled to his men, “we’ll set the charges and blow this place to kingdom come.”

“Oh jolly good old chap,” Caine grinned, “knew I could rely on you Yanks to blow things up,” Caine’s grin got wider, “while you’re doing that my chaps and I’ll set up a cordon so you’re not disturbed.”

“Thanks,” Riley started to pull blocks of C4 from his pack.

“Rum do all this,” Caine shrugged as he gestured to all the bodies, “but as you say it’s done, so lets not worry too much about who did it, eh?”

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**Charlie Two-Nine, somewhere over the Indian Ocean.**

Sitting back in her uncomfortable seat, Faith started to ponder on the strange things that seemed to happen to her and around her. First there was the whole coma thing. Next there was the apparent super-powers (which were cool, she never needed a bottle opener to pop the cap on a bottle of beer). But there were also all the not so cool things that happened; like muggers who tried to bit her on the neck and freaks in LA generally. The monster that’d chased herself and her friends through the woods during training; she wouldn’t forget that in a hurry. Blind monks with knives coming after her just before last Christmas and now strange religious cults killing children.

As Faith saw it she had two options; one, she could worry and obsess about this weird stuff until it drove her nuts, or, she could go to a bar with her buddies back in Germany and laugh about it over a few beers…well, Faith modified her idea, over a lot of beers. Because, hey, she didn’t know if this was normal, maybe this sort of thing happened to everyone. Perhaps it was so common that no one thought it worth mentioning, after all her memories only stretched back to February ’02. But, there was the super-powers, that didn’t seem normal; no one else appeared to have them, so maybe she was right to keep them under wraps…and maybe she should spend some time trying to find out who she really was and why she was like she was. However, that could all wait until she got back to Germany and had more than a few beers.

Wriggling her butt in a futile attempt to get comfortable, Faith closed her eyes and let the droning of the C130’s engines start to lull her off to sleep. The rescue helo had taken herself, the injured pilot and the bodies of the other pilot and the door gunner back to the airport. In the aftermath and confusion of a mission that had gone badly wrong, Faith found herself put aboard a transport with the seriously wounded. She and they were being evacuated to Diego Garcia.

No one had bothered to ask her what she’d been doing out in the city, or how she’d come to be defending the downed Blackhawk. The Rangers hadn’t asked her anything, in fact they seemed to have forgotten all about her, after all she wasn’t one of theirs and she’d not been there long enough to make much of an impression in people’s minds. Perhaps in a week or two when everything had calmed down, someone would ask themselves what had happened to the female driver who’d been sent to them by mistake. If anyone bothered to check they’d no doubt find she’d been sent back to Diego Garcia and then on to Germany and think no more about her, she’d be someone else’s problem by then.

_Men in rags, men who froze,  
Still that Army met its foes,  
And the Army went rolling along.  
Faith in God, then we're right,  
And we'll fight with all our might,  
As the Army keeps rolling along._

The End.


End file.
